


Rooftops, wine, and various other tomfoolery

by Aloe_kun



Category: Jazzpunk (Video Game)
Genre: (that being weird colour blood and stuff), Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Couch Cuddles, Cyborg Anatomy, Denial of Feelings, Gunshot Wounds, Injury Recovery, M/M, Or maybe not platonic who knows ; ), Platonic Kissing, Rain, Rooftops, Spin the Bottle, Sports, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 06:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15551676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aloe_kun/pseuds/Aloe_kun
Summary: He vaguely recognised the rooftop he landed on as he glanced around. He recognised it somewhat. He'd definitely been here before...





	1. Rooftops

Polyblank made the leap to the next rooftop, almost falling as his feet slipped slightly on the wet concrete of the building. He landed hard, what was meant to be a well executed roll to break his fall turning into him more or less slamming onto the hard stone surface. But hey, at least he'd made the jump. It could have been worse.  
  
He staggered to his feet as he heard the shouting from the first rooftop, accompanied by a few gunshots poorly aimed him. One grazed his cheek as he ducked behind a vent unit, leaning back against it. He could hear something about his pursuers not wanting to follow him, something about not wanting to anger whoever's roof it was, but he was greatly distracted by the throbbing pain in his left shoulder from where he had been shot. Luckily enough the bullet had passed completely through, so he didn't have to worry about digging it out, but it was bleeding badly. The bright blue stain on the long coat he wore over his shirt was growing, and at a somewhat worrying rate, but that could have been because his coat was already soaked through from the heavy rain. The voices of his pursuers argued amongst themselves for a moment, then faded as they took their leave, and he let out a sigh of relief. But where exactly was he? He'd never had a great sense of direction.   
  
He vaguely recognised the rooftop he landed on as he glanced around. He recognised it somewhat. He'd definitely been here before...

Hearing commotion and gunshots from outside, The Editor had put his book aside to go peek out the large window, cautious. He frowned, he could just see the offending party leaving, even though the heavy rain, and some blood spreading out over the wet ground, and-  
  
Dear lord, was that _Polyblank?_  
  
He picked up an umbrella from the stand by the door that lead to the well equipped rooftop, opening it as he hurried over to the figure. He could hear the drumming of the rain hitting the concrete and his umbrella as he half knelt near to the soaked spy, mindless of the water that seeped slightly into his shoes. Polyblank seemed hurt, to say the least, and something about it didn't sit well with The Editor. _No_ didn't care about him, or at least wouldn't admit it-  
  
_No,_ he didn't care, it was just that the spy was _his_ enemy, and that meant _he_ was the only one able to hurt him. That was how it worked, dammit! You don't just go around trying to kill off other people's enemies, it's bad etiquette!

"Polyblank?" He questioned hurriedly. "What on  _earth_ are you doing here?" 

Polyblank had somewhat stiffened as the other approached. He'd recognise him anywhere, the orange and yellow tie, the styled hair, even the way he walked, it was all telling. It was The Editor, for definite. He reached for his gun at his hip, only to find it missing, but when did he drop it? He had it before he leapt, and it wasn't on the rooftop he was on-  
  
He must have lost it right as he jumped. There would be no chance of getting it back, then. These buildings were so absurdly tall, he briefly wondered if it'd even hit the ground yet.   
  
He tried to look anywhere but at The Editor, but ultimately failed, grey eyes showing something that was a mix of pain, fear, and curiosity as they locked with the other's dollar-bill green ones.

"...Fine, don't talk." The Editor said  resignation in his voice. "At least get out of the rain." 

He hauled the spy to his feet, letting him lean on him somewhat as he led him to the door he'd left open. Polyblank was hesitatant to follow, but had little choice. Sure, he could try for an escape, but what good would it be? He was soaked, injured, _and_ without a weapon. Even if he did get away from The Editor, he'd likely be walking straight into the arms - and guns- of the goons who had been chasing him down before.  
  
Reluctantly, he let the other lead him. At least if he planned to do anything heinous, it would be taking place out of the rain.

Editor quickly had the spy inside, away from the rain that pounded on the concrete. Not that Polyblank could have gotten any more soaked, but still. At least no one would be around to see him fuss over the spy, the girls were on some trip together and wouldn't be back for a few days, and his own henchmen were busy with a mission that would take them quite some time.  
  
He practically dragged Polyblank through to his room, grabbing a towel from the rail on his way past to lay out on the bed where he quickly had the other sit down. He'd need a change of clothes, underwear at least, but that could wait a while. For now, he was more concerned about Polyblank's shoulder. He tugged off the long coat off over the spy's shoulders and tossing it to the side.

"What the hell happened to you?" He said, exasperated. 

Polyblank stayed quiet, confused. To be honest, had been expecting pretty much anything else but help from the antagonist, but wouldn't stop him from doing so. He shivered slightly from the cold. He was soaked through, hair dripping and clothes clinging to his skin.

Editor began to unbutton the spy's shirt, hissing slightly at the lack of a response. He quickly noted that Polyblank was shivered, and was struck with a pang of pity for the man. Had he leapt to any other rooftop, chances were he probably would have been killed, or at _least_ badly hurt. He was lucky that it was well known that The Editor was _not_ someone to be trifled with.

"Look, I need to know what happened." The Editor sighed heavily. 'Do you want me to patch you up?" 

"I... Got shot. Y-yeah." Polyblank said after a moment of hesitation. 

He stuttered slightly, more from the cold rain seeping into his clothes than fear, surprisingly. He didn't want to go into detail about why, but was otherwise compliant. He wasn't in any position to be refusing The Editor, frankly.

 "Is the bullet still in it?"  The antagonist questioned. 

"N-no." Came the short reply. 

The Editor pulled a box out from under the bed, pulling from that a roll of bandages and clean pads. Pulling off the spy's bloodied shirt, he quickly retrieved a cloth from the box to wipe the blood and water away from the wound with. He picked up a disinfectant spray from the kit, removing the lid.

"Now, this  _will_ hurt." Editor said seriously. Polyblank nodded yes, gritting his teeth, ready for the impending harsh sting of the spray. "Good." 

applied the disinfectant generously, mopping up the excess with the cloth. He didn't miss how Polyblank's knuckles went white as he gripped the bedsheets, ~~-oh, if only it was in a different context-~~ or how the spy inhaled sharply, flinching.

Polyblank exhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut. He heard The Editor put the spray bottle down, to his relief, and relaxed slightly.

"That's the worst part out of the way." The antagonist assured. 

h that, Editor picked up the clean pads, placing one either side of the wound as he began to bandage it. He never thought he'd ever _pity_ Polyblank, but it was difficult not to when he was like this. It occurred to him that this probably happened fairly often, with the spy running off on dangerous missions left right and centre, almost _all_ the time. Part of him wished he could be there to patch the spy up all the time, but he knew that wouldn't be possible. They were _both_ busy men, after all.

As the antagonist continued to bandage his shoulder, Polyblank was dealing with a flurry of questions in his mind. Why on earth would his rival be helping him? He would have expected The Editor to kill him off in his weakened state, it'd be less work on his part. He opened his eyes, watching the other with a cautious gaze.

Editor was done with his shoulder before long, and stood, leaving the room briefly to get a softer towel. He tossed it onto Polyblank's lap, then looked away.

"Get those clothes off, they're soaked. I'll find something for you to change into." The Editor instructed. 

Polyblank went to remove his trousers, but hesitated, hands hovering at his belt. He wasn't quite sure about this.

"Oh _relax,_ Polyblank." The Editor went to look through his drawers. He _had_ bought a few things that seemed like they'd be about the spy's size, now he thought about it. He couldn't remember why, though. "I won't look." 

The spy, still hesitant, removed what clothes he had on, putting them to the side with the -also soaked- shirt and coat The Editor had already taken off him. He covered himself as best he could with the towel, waiting for the antagonist to come back over.

With one hand held over his eyes, The Editor held the change of clothes out to the spy, almost tripping over the wet clothes on the floor due to his lack of sight.

The clothes weren't exactly anything special; just plain underwear, loose jeans and a T-shirt that wasn't quite blue or purple, somewhere in between. Polyblank took the clothes from the antagonist, beginning with the pants, then socks, but got stuck with the jeans. He fiddled with the zip, frowning.

Editor stood with his back to the spy, hand still over his eyes- though part of him really  _did_ want to peek...  
  
One, quick look wouldn't hurt. He turned his head slightly, looking through his fingers at Polyblank. From what he could see, he had a fairly strong frame, but he wasn't bulky like The Editor's two henchmen, more just toned, and _certainly_ not unappealing...  
  
He quickly looked away, cheeks warm with the beginnings of a hot blush. He shook his head a little. He should _not_ be thinking like that, much less about his rival.

Polyblank hadn't noticed The Editor looking, too preoccupied with the zip. He finally got it, and soon had pulled on the T-shirt too. He was glad to be out of his soaked clothes, the ones the antagonist had given him were _much_ more comfortable.  
  
He stretched, eyes squeezed shut as he raised them, tensed, then relaxed. A soft sigh of relief left him, although his shoulder still held a dull ache, but it was better than before.

"Are you done?" The Editor asked. 

Plyblank nodded and hummed confirmation that he was indeed dressed. Letting his arms fall back to his sides. He was still a little apprehensive, with The Editor being his enemy and all, but he _had_ been kind thus far...  
  
Still, he wouldn't let down his gaurd down just yet.

"Good." The Editor nodded, pleased that he'd dressed fairly quickly. "I'm putting these in the wash..." 

Editor bundled up the -surprisingly heavy- wet clothes from the floor, taking them through to the bathroom. He'd have _plenty_ of time to wash them, it wasn't likely Polyblank would be leaving anytime too soon. He just left them in the wash basket, and quickly returned to the bedroom, where the spy was still waiting.

Polyblank looked over to The Editor as he reentered the room, away from the picture on the wall he had been appreciating moments before.

"Well, there's no point sitting around and doing nothing!" Editor said with a charming smile. He closed the majority of the distance between himself and the spy, taking Polyblank by the hand. "How about a drink, Polyblank?" 

Polyblank stood and followed as the antagonist lead him through to the spacious sitting area downstairs (he remembered playing spin the bottle there, but couldn't recall with whom), but his mind was hard at work. The idea didn't particularly appeal to him, especially when he thought back to the last time he had drank around Editor, but he nodded anyway. He didn't suppose it made much of a difference whether he agreed or not, the other would likely pour him a drink regardless.

The spy was certainly right. Before even waiting for a response, The Editor had sat him down and handed him a swiftly poured glass of -undrugged- wine, a smile on his lips as he poured his own.

He looked at the glass in his hand. He didn't _see_ the antagonist add anything odd...  
  
Cautiously, he raised it to his lips to take a sip. It didn't taste off either. So, he'd trust The Editor, for the time being.

Editor had already drank a fair amount of his glass by the time he took a seat beside the spy, as close to him as he dared.

"So, care to tell me how you got hurt so badly?" The Editor asked, an eyebrow delicately raised. 

"Just a mission gone wrong." Polyblank seemed obligated to give a verbal answer. He wasn't the talkative type, but he supposed he had to as he continued. "Nothing I'm not used to. Getting shot isn't that uncommon." 

Ah, there it was again. That pity from before returned, making Editor frown. The thought of Polyblank getting hurt was _wholly_ unbearable, even if the antagonist wouldn't admit it.

Polyblank drank from his glass. It certainly didn't taste _bad,_ but when he drank it was typically something stronger. Still, for wine, it was good.  
  
He looked up from the half empty drink, questioningly. It seemed as if the Editor had gone quiet.

Editor snapped out of his apparent staring contest with his glass, looking back up at the spy.

"Anyway," He said quickly. "Speaking of missions, how has your work been?" 

"Fine." He replied with a shrug, shifting slightly as he sipped. "Though The Director's really been piling on the risky missions..." 

"Oh, has he?" Editor emptied his glass, and began to pour himself another. He might have to send a few agents to keep an eye on the spy, just to keep Polyblank a little more safe. "Well, don't go getting yourself killed. You're _my_ rival." 

Polyblank chuckled softly, finishing his own glass and finding it refilled after he looked away for just a moment. The Editor showing concern was odd, especially since it was towards him.

"Isn't it nice to _not_ be trying to kill each other for once?" The Editor settled back in his seat, getting more comfortable. He let out a soft sigh as he relaxed, sipping from his glass.

"I've never tried to kill you." Polyblank objected quietly. 

The Editor thought about it for a moment. Now he thought about it, the spy had never really even tried to hurt him outside of a small scratch - or a bruised ego-. He began to think about it.

"I suppose so..." He mumbled, pouting slightly. 

Polyblank had emptied his second glass fairly quickly, and was just about to set it aside.

"Done already?" The Editor commented with a chuckle. He leant forward, picking up the bottle to refill the spy's glass. "That was fast." 

Polyblank had intended to stop at two glasses, but his was filled again before he could refuse. He brought it back to his lips, trying to look unperturbed, nodding a thanks.  
  
He was still a little tense, still unsure of The Editor's intentions. Though he had let his gaurd down just a bit, it was far from gone.

The tension in Polyblank's form didn't go unnoticed by the antagonist, and he huffed softly. Sure, he understood why he'd be a little nervy, but he really was trying to make him feel welcome. He had paused to think about it, refilling his own glass.

Polyblank placed his glass to the side and lifted his arms out in front of himself, stretching. He sighed softly, but was cut off by a hiss of pain as he put just a little too much strain on his injured shoulder. His arms quickly dropped, one hand clasped over his shoulder.

Editor was close to Polyblank in an instant, probably _too_ close, a worried look on his face. He gently laid a hand over the one the spy held to his shoulder.

"Are you alright, Polyblank?" He fretted. 

Polyblank nodded, and was going to remove his hand, but didn't want to disturb the Editor's. He sank back into the seat, relaxing slightly.

"That's good." The antagonist sighed. 

The Editor was _going_ sit back where he had been, but he was close already now, and he just couldn't help it. Maybe it was the wine.   
  
Abandoning his own glass where he'd left it, he leant against the spy's side resting his head on the other's uninjured shoulder.

Polyblank stiffened as the antagonist leant against him, exhaling nervously. It was probably just because The Editor had been drinking, he never could hold his drink very well...  
  
But still, there was _something_ about the gesture, the closeness, that made his heart beat that little bit faster, that made his cheeks burn -because of the alcohol, he told himself- as the other got comfortable.

Editor hummed softly, burying his face in the crook of the spy's neck. He'd _never_ do this fully sober, of course, but after a couple of glasses he was just about tipsy enough to not think the implications completely through. He was comfortable, and Polyblank was warm, a sharp contrast to earlier when he had first entered the apartment, soaked through and practically freezing.  
  
Reaching over to the table where Polyblank's own drinks sat, he picked up a remote, clicking on the screen across from them.

"It's quiet in here..." He murmured. "Let's watch something." 

Polyblank's cheeks were a soft pink with blush as he mumbled an agreement and watched The Editor flick through the channels.  
  
When he finally stopped, it seemed like it was some kind of documentary about how things were made in factories. Pretty interesting, but not enough to distract him from how close his rival was, not enough to draw his attention away from the gentle warmth emanating from The Editor's form, pressed close to his own. He raised his right arm slightly, then hesitated.  
  
Better to be bold, he decided.  
  
He put the aforementioned arm around the antagonist snugly, pulling him a little closer. His cheeks were much more flushed now, going from a pink to the beginnings of red.

The Editor was a little surprised. From what he knew about his rival, and how reserved he was, he wouldn't have expected him to make any move to reciprocate his own actions.  
  
But, as surprising as it was, it was certainly not unwelcome. The antagonist was happy to press nearer to Polyblank, drinking in the feeling of being pressed close to the spy. He felt a little sleepy, come to think of it.

The two stayed like that for a while, long past the end of the programme and well into the next. There was little sound in the apartment, aside from the music and narration of the programme and the quiet breathing of the two, plus the occasional noise of wine being poured.  
  
The Editor lazily reached up, lacing a hand through the spy's grey hair, humming softly. He smiled, not the typical sly smirk that would normally grace his lips, but a real, gentle smile.

Polyblank's heart sped up some, cheeks burning. Unwittingly, he leant into The Editor's touch, relaxing a little. The hand that had settled at the antagonist's side when he put his arm around the other fiddled a little nervously with the fabric of The Editor's jumper. He met the other's sleepy gaze, unable to even glance away.

e Editor continued to twine his fingers through the other's soft hair, dropping his gaze in favour of burying his face in the crook of the spy's neck. Polyblank's reaction had been just _adorable,_ and the antagonist would just _love_ to get a couple more of those reactions out of him, but he was tired... 

Polyblank tried to focus on something else, wandering eyes eventually settling on the still on TV. It was pretty much the same programme as before, or at least a similar concept, but as interesting as it was it did little to keep his breath from hitching slightly, did nothing to keep those little sparks of heat shooting through him as he listened to The Editor humming, pleased, against his neck.

He decided it didn't matter, for now. He'd wait for The Editor to fall asleep, then figure out the rest. He kept the other close, rubbing circles gently in the small of his rivals back.

After a while, The Editor did fall asleep, as evidenced by how still he became, how his breathing slowed and deepened. Polyblank gently - and easily, he was lighter than he'd expected- picked him up, carrying him through to the antagonist's bedroom, carefully laying him down on the bed.  
  
He glanced around, eyes spotting a pad of sticky notes on the bedside table, next to a pen. He scribbled a note down;  
  
_Had to leave, I'll bring the clothes back when I can._  
_-Polyblank_  
  
With that, he left quietly. He'd have to report back to the Director, to tell him what went wrong. He decided he'd skip over the part where Editor was involved though, he'd say he just made it back to his own flat, or a friend's.

 


	2. Spin the bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timeskip bitch™ 
> 
> I bet you thought it was gonna end there 
> 
> But I've still got some fanfic material left up my sleeve
> 
> [Two new chapters in one day?? For separate fandoms?? Holy FUCK]

Polyblank woke up to the sound of his phone's cheery notification sound -he'd set it to a fairly loud chime the night before, for no particular reason except for sheer boredom- and cracked an eye open. He groaned quietly as he sat up, wincing as the bright light from the screen hit his still sleepy eyes. He quickly typed in his password before bringing up his texts. He didn't recognise the number...  
  
The spy read the texts, one eyebrow raised in tired confusion. He couldn't remember giving The Editor his phone number, but it seemed like he'd gotten it _somehow._ He was more annoyed that he didn't just send one text instead of so many little ones; his phone still buzzed in his hand as the antagonist kept messaging him. He waited until the device finally stilled before he began reading the texts.

 _E: Hey~_  
  
Was the tilde really needed? It seemed a bit... flirty...  
  
_E: it was fun when you came to mine the other week_  
  
_E: i enjoyed it, ypu know_  
  
_E: *you_  
  
Even supervillians made spelling mistakes, it seemed. Polyblank couldn't help but chuckle softly before he kept reading.  
  
_E: if you aren't busy, you should come over to mine today_  
  
_E: it's just me and the girls here_  
  
At least there wouldn't be any chance of getting shot, the spy thought. Not unless one of the girls took up shooting.  
  
_E: we'd love some company <3 _  
  
_E: so come over if you can_  
  
_E: the girls say hi, btw ;)_

Polyblank figured he'd head over. He had today and the next few days off, due to The Director wanting his shoulder to heal before sending him off on another mission, and he really had nothing else to do (and he'd be able to take the clothes he'd borrowed back). He was about to type his reply, when his phone buzzed again. __  
  
_E: oh, and you can keep the clothes you borrowed <3 _  
  
_E: i dont really need them_  
  
Alright, he wouldn't take them then. He waited a couple of seconds for any further texts. When none popped up, he began to type. __  
  
_P: sure, I'll be there in an hour or so, thanks_

He waited a second for a reply, and quickly got one. _ __  
  
_E: great! See you soon~__

Polyblank set his phone to the side, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He'd better get looking decent before he went, he'd definitely have to shower. In retrospect, he should have given himself more than an hour, but he couldn't really change that now. He'd just have to be quick.

Polyblank knocked on the door to The Editor's apartment about an hour later, as promised. He had chosen to wear something akin to a turtleneck, in order to cover up a little more. He rocked back on his heels, a little nervy.  
  
The door was quickly swung open, and he was greeted by a dark skinned, familiar female (he remembered something about spin the bottle), who seemed _very_ happy to see him.

"Hello~!" She chimed. "We were wondering when you'd arrive!"

She quickly took the spy by the hand, pulling him inside as she called over her shoulder.

"Ed! Your friend is here!" 

Polyblank let the woman lead him inside, cringing slightly. He could hear the others, even from the door. He silently applauded himself for bringing painkillers with him, he could guarantee he'd have ended up with an  _awful_ headache if hadn't come prepared.

"Oh?" The Editor looked over at the approaching pair. "Hello Polyblank!" 

The Editor smiled as the woman led his rival down to the sitting area they had occupied a few nights before. His cheeks heated up a little at the memory, but he quickly pushed that as Polyblank sat down across from him. He was a little disappointed the spy didn't sit next to him, but it couldn't be helped. He was about to say something but was interrupted by almost _everyone_ else as they greeted the new arrival.

"Hello!"

"Hiya!"

"Hey~"

"Ciao!"

Polyblank raised his hand in a quiet greeting, smiling, noting that no one said hello in the same way. The Editor cracked a smile himself, before speaking, this time without interruption.

"Now girls, I'm gonna need you to calm down a little." He explained. "Polyblank isn't the loud type." 

"So what're we gonna do now Poly's here?" One girl asked. 

"Spin the bottle?" Another suggested.

There was a quiet round of giggles at that, as if it was  _terribly_ scandalous. 

The woman that let Polyblank in spoke up. "I think we should do that later." 

"Why not sports then?" A lady in a red dress (Polyblank recognised her) suggested. "The weather's great~!"

A chorus of agreements and nods went around the group. A couple of them looked to Ed for approval. 

"Sounds like a plan to me." He chuckled. 

They played for a while, picking doubles over singles in tennis so more of them could play at once, and with The Editor only getting slightly frustrated by the fact he won against everyone _except_ Polyblank. The fact wasn't helped by the girl's teasing, and the antagonist took a little time out to sulk as he watched the others play for a while.  
  
He soon joined in when they went to play golf, however, and actually succeeded in beating the spy. He was practically oozing pride as he waited his turn for the gravy boat races.  
  
They kept playing for quite some time, going back and forth between activities until the sun just began to set, at which point he conceded a draw with Polyblank in favour of heading inside again, giggling and joking amongst themselves as they reentered the apartment. 

"So girls," The Editor began. "What now?" 

"I _think_ I was promised a game of spin the bottle~" The girl who previously suggested it piped up. 

"Ooh, that sounds like fun!"

"Yeah, let's play!"

Polyblank settled between The Editor and a woman in a blue dress as everyone began to sit in a circle. One the girls dashed off for a moment, returning with the bottle they were going to use. The spy was a little unsure about playing this, but went along with it.

"Me first!" Red Dress laughed. 

She spun the bottle, with it landing on the woman in the blue dress next to Polyblank, who was quickly kissed on the cheek, a red lipstick mark remaining on her face. Play passed to the right, and Polyblank sighed in relief each time the bottle missed him. Most of the kisses were exchanged among the girls, and a couple ended up with the Editor, but none for him yet.  
  
Eventually it was the antagonist's turn. Polyblank sat up a little straighter, as it would be his turn next.

The Editor smiled as he spun the glass bottle, then waited for it to slow to a halt. His eyes widened slightly as it finally stopped. He briefly thought one of the girls might have rigged it for a laugh, but they wouldn't have known how to do that.  
  
It had landed on Polyblank.  
  
The antagonist could feel the head creeping up his cheeks as he turned to look at the equally nervous spy, who's cheeks had gone pink a lot quicker than his own. Steeling himself, he put a hand on the other's shoulder and leaned in.

Polyblank considered moving away as the antagonist got closer, hearing the girls hushed giggling and his own pounding heart in his ears. Before he could go anything about it, The Editor had stilled him with a hand on his shoulder. His cheeks were burning as the other got ever closer.

Editor closed the last of the gap between himself and the spy, meeting his lips with a chaste kiss. He lingered there for as long as he dared before leaning back, cheeks flushed.

Polyblank was practically reeling, despite how quick and restrained the kiss had been. But the way The Editor had lingered for that extra couple of moments told him that had the girls not been there, it was quite possible he wouldn't have held back as much as he had.  
  
Hearing the girls begin to giggle again, he realised he must've looked as fazed as he was. In an effort to combat that, he quickly took his turn, with it landing on a blonde he didn't recognise, who was kissed softly on the cheek. He was glad it hadn't landed on the antagonist, he doubted he'd even be _able_ to kiss him again without just collapsing into a flustered mess, but part of him was a little disappointed.

The game went on a little longer, but with the slowly decreasing interest in the game and the introduction of a full bottle of wine in addition to the empty play piece -courtesy of Red Dress- the game eventually devolved into general chat. Polyblank stayed fairly quiet, still reeling slightly from the earlier kiss.

He did eventually relax as time went on, and with some coaxing from the girls even had his nails done by a pair of them. It was slightly harder to convince him to let them do proper makeup, but in the end he'd allowed it. In return, he got to apply some to Ed. He'd made sure to pick out the most garish red he could. 

This continued into the early hours of the morning, with girls slowly nodding off in various places; leaning on each other, on the couch, on the kitchen counter(?), and so on. By the time the spy left, only a few of them were still awake to drunkenly wave goodbye, making him promise he'd come back soon. These few unfortunately excluded Editor, who had passed out earlier and was currently receiving a makeover from an  _extremely_ drunk Red Dress.

As he stepped out into the hallway, he promised himself he'd text him later and say thanks for everything. 

He squinted slightly at the bright streetlights when he exited the building. Despite the painkillers he'd so smartly brought with him, he now realised he had a  _splitting_ headache. 

He dreaded the hangover he'd get later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooo man I'm gonna end that there. Hope y'all enjoyed this mess

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, it's something! Wrote it a while ago, though.


End file.
